


But Wait... There's More!

by EmmyLouWho



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blind Date, Chance Meetings, Fluff, Infomercials, M/M, titanium steak knives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 07:55:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7676356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmyLouWho/pseuds/EmmyLouWho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Eight sets of titanium steak knives. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Louis hadn’t really realised how bad the situation had gotten until he opened his cupboard one day and counted the eight boxes sitting there, each one containing a set of titanium steak knives, guaranteed to stay sharp for 10 years. Or at least that’s what Harry had said.</em>
</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>Harry Styles is the king of TV infomercials, and Louis keeps buying all the weird products he promotes. A blind date changes everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But Wait... There's More!

Eight sets of titanium steak knives. 

Louis hadn’t really realised how bad the situation had gotten until he opened his cupboard one day and counted the eight boxes sitting there, each one containing a set of titanium steak knives, guaranteed to stay sharp for 10 years. Or at least that’s what Harry had said. 

Even if Louis spent the rest of his life chopping, he would never have a good reason to have eight sets of titanium steak knives sitting (unopened) in his kitchen. The worst part was that the reason he opened the cupboard in the first place was to put in the new box that had arrived in the post that morning. 

_Nine_ sets of titanium steak knives. 

This latest one had come free with a step-ladder that Harry had called ‘life-changing’, promising that it would replace all other ladders Louis could possibly need. 

The step-ladder joined the other products Harry had convinced him to buy – the magic bullet, the vibrating home gym, the vacuum that never loses its suction, the amazing paint roller that didn’t drip, the ab cruncher, and three different types of skin creams that promised to reduce any signs of ageing on his skin. 

Louis was only 24 – he didn’t have any signs of ageing. Nor did he have a particular affinity for painting, vacuuming, juicing, or ab-building. Every week for the past two months he had been spending his hard earned money on products he didn’t even want. 

He had a problem. A tall, curly-haired, green-eyed problem. And he was hiding the shameful evidence of this problem in his kitchen cupboard. 

Nine sets of titanium steak knives. 

*

There were many things Louis liked about his job. Doing freelance web design meant that he got to work with what he was passionate about every day, and most importantly he got to work at home and make his own hours. This flexibility meant that if Louis wanted to take time off during the day to curl up on his sofa and watch TV he could. And that was exactly what he did every Monday morning, religiously tuning in at half ten to get his weekly dose of sunshine. 

“Hi everyone!” the man chirped, slightly pixelated on Louis’ TV screen. “It’s Harry here, wait until you see what I have to show you this week!”

Harry Styles was a gorgeous human being, and the sole reason why Louis had nine sets of titanium steak knives hidden away. Every time Harry opened his mouth, it was like the part of Louis’ brain that was responsible for rational thought switched off and the part that made him pull out his phone and his credit card took over. Louis suspected that the power was in Harry’s curls – watching them bounce around as Harry demonstrated that week’s product was mesmerising, and he was sure that he was not the only person to fall victim to his charm. 

Today Harry was standing in a kitchen set, a basket of vegetables sitting on the bench in front of him. 

“Have you ever been cooking vegetables and thought to yourself, ‘There must be a better way?’ Well you’re right – the amazing new VegeWhiz will revolutionise the way you cook!”

He was wearing a peach coloured shirt today, and it contrasted with his tanned skin nicely. As always, it was only partially buttoned, revealing a toned chest and just a hint of a dark tattoo on his torso. 

“It slices, it dices, it will prepare any fruit or vegetable in less than half the time. But wait…there’s more! The VegeWhiz also comes with the garlic attachment, which will make preparing fresh garlic a breeze!”

As Louis watched Harry attack the vegetables with the strange looking contraption, he felt the familiar urge creeping into his brain. The urge to buy. It contradicted all rational thought. Suddenly everything Harry was saying was making sense. The VegeWhiz _would_ make cooking vegetables easier. And, sure, he didn’t usually eat a lot of vegetables, but maybe if he had the VegeWhiz then he would. Yes, Louis thought, staring at Harry on the screen, that definitely made sense. 

Harry now had a bench full of chopped vegetables and the red numbers were flashing on screen beside his face, signalling that the infomercial was coming to its end. 

“Now is your chance to get your hands on your very own amazing VegeWhiz”, he was saying, “and for only the incredible price of £29.99! But wait…there’s more!”

Harry reached under the bench and pulled out a familiar white box. 

“Call now and we will give you a free – yes, free – set of titanium steak knives, guaranteed to stay sharp for ten years!” 

Louis briefly thought about the state of his kitchen cupboard, before his attention went back to Harry speaking on screen. 

“This amazing deal is available for a limited time only – so order your very own VegeWhiz now!” 

There was a final close-up shot of Harry grinning cheekily into the camera, holding the VegeWhiz up to his face, before the screen went black, showing only the number to call. 

Louis didn’t need to write the number down. He was embarrassed to say that at this point he knew it off by heart. 

He reached over and picked up his iPhone from the arm of the sofa. The phone only rang four times before he was connected. 

“Hi, I’d like to order the VegeWhiz please.”

*

Harry was at the supermarket debating whether to buy oranges or mandarins when his phone rang. Putting two of each into his basket, he slid his phone out of his back pocket and checked the screen. Liam. It was strange for him to be calling in the middle of the day. As a PE teacher at the local primary school, Liam was usually occupied running around with the kids.

He swiped his finger across the screen to answer the call, bringing his iPhone up to his ear and walking towards the dairy section of the supermarket. 

“Hi mate,” he said cheerfully, “what’s going on?”

“Harry!” Liam sounded slightly out of breath. “I can’t talk long, I’ve only got two minutes before my next class starts.”

Harry picked up a wrapped piece of cheese, examining the label. “What’s wrong?” he asked. 

“Remember when you needed to find a job and I introduced you to Niall who gave you an audition and then you became this infomercial superstar and you said you owed me one? I need to cash in that favour now, mate.” 

Harry had never heard Liam talk so fast before. 

“Liam, take a breath. What is it?”

“I was supposed to go on a date with this guy tonight, this friend of Zayn’s that he’s been trying to set me up with for ages. Apparently he’s worried that his friend doesn’t date enough and he volunteered me? Anyway, we’ve had to reschedule three times now so I _can’t_ do it again; Zayn’ll have my head. But I’ve had a last minute staff meeting scheduled for tonight and I won’t be able to make it to dinner.”

“Right… so what’s this got to do with me?” Harry asked suspiciously. He thought he had a pretty good idea where this was going. 

“I need you to go on the date with him in my place.”

“What? No. Liam!”

“ _Please_ Harry. I am not above begging you.”

Liam did sound pretty desperate, and Harry didn’t have anything exciting planned that night beyond eating whichever cheese he picked out and binge watching Criminal Minds. 

“Alright, I’ll do it.”

Liam’s sigh of relief was audible, even through the phone. 

“Cheers, mate,” he said, “you really are the best.”

“I know,” Harry replied, “now where do I have to meet this guy?”

“I’ll send you a text with all the info,” Liam promised, “now I’m sorry to dash but the bell’s about to ring and I’ve got to get the oval set up for my Year Fives.”

“Okay, talk to you later then.”

“Thanks again!” Liam said, and the call cut off. 

Harry stared down at his phone, screen black. Well, apparently he had plans for tonight now. He’d better finish up his shopping and then head home so he’d have time to get ready.

His phone pinged, signalling a new text. 

_7pm, the Italian place on Russell St. Booking is in my name, thx a million!!!!!_

On the bright side, Italian was his favourite, so at least even if the date was a dud he’d still get a good meal. Harry considered himself an optimist.

*

Louis fiddled with his fringe nervously. He really didn’t want to be here tonight, but Zayn had gotten the ridiculous idea into his head that Louis needed to “get back out there” and was “in danger of becoming a hermit” if he didn’t start dating soon. 

Louis was fine, really, but Zayn seemed so set on finding him a boyfriend, and he seemed to think that this guy, Liam, who worked at the school Zayn taught art at, would be a good choice. Their date had been rescheduled a few times already, so Louis wasn’t sure whether that was a sign that Liam also didn’t really want to go on the date. Either way, he didn’t want to disappoint Zayn and so Louis had turned up tonight at the restaurant, on time and in his tightest pair of jeans. 

A hostess approached him where he was hovering at the door. 

“Hello, welcome to Fresco,” she said with a polite smile, “are you here for dinner?”

“Yeah,” said Louis, “I’m supposed to be meeting someone. Reservation for Liam?”

“Ah, yes,” the woman said, checking the seating chart, “your other party has already arrived. If you’d like to follow me, I’ll show you to your table.”

“Thanks,” Louis said, trailing the hostess as she made her way through the maze of tables towards the back of the restaurant. 

As they walked, he tried to picture what Liam would look like. Zayn hadn’t given him much information, but he knew that he was a PE teacher and that he had brown hair, so Louis had imagined him as being very fit, probably with short hair, maybe a bit of a beard. As long as he didn’t wear the awful grey knee socks and shorts combo that Louis’ own primary PE teacher had worn, he thought it would be okay. 

Lost in thought, Louis didn’t notice that the hostess had stopped walking, and he just managed to stop himself from crashing into her. 

“Here you are sir,” she said, gesturing to a table. She was still standing in front of him and so all he could see of Liam was one arm, clad in a black shirt. So far, so good. She placed two menus down on the table. 

“Your waiter will be by shortly,” she said, “enjoy your dinner gentlemen.” 

The hostess walked away, giving Louis a sudden view of his table and– oh god. Unless Harry Styles had an identical twin brother, that was definitely not Liam. 

“Hi!” Harry Styles said, smiling up at Louis from his seat. 

Suddenly realising that he was still standing in front of the table like an idiot, Louis quickly sat down and wiped his now-sweaty hands on his jeans. And, boy was he glad he had worn his best jeans. If he embarrassed himself in front of Harry Styles tonight, at least his bum would look good. 

“Hi,” Louis replied a bit belatedly, feeling his face go pink. He hoped that Harry would put that down to the efficient heating in the restaurant. “I’m Louis.” He stuck his hand out, and Harry immediately reached out over the table and shook it. 

“Louis,” Harry repeated. “It’s nice to meet you Louis. I’m Harry – oh, um, obviously I’m not Liam. He had an emergency so asked me to come in his place so you wouldn’t be stood up. Hopefully I’m not too much of a disappointment.”

“No,” Louis said, throat dry, “I am most definitely not disappointed.”

“I’m glad,” Harry said, a shy smile on his face. “Now shall we have a look at the menu? I don’t know about you but I’m starving.”

“Me too, I’ve actually been dreaming about ravioli all day.”

Harry laughed, handing one of the menus over. “You know what, Louis, I think we’re going to get along just fine.”

* 

Full with pasta and the bottle of red wine they had shared, Harry felt warm and happy. This night had turned out better than he could have imagined. Louis was his ideal date – funny, enthusiastic, and quite frankly the prettiest man Harry had ever seen. And he worked with pretty people every day, so that was saying something. He was basically Harry’s dream guy, wrapped up in a nice little Louis-sized package and tied with a bow. Harry should probably send Liam a thank you card or something. 

According to his watch, they had spent two hours talking and swapping stories over dinner, but to Harry it felt like barely any time at all. Conversation had flowed easily, and there had not once been an awkward silence. Louis was so easy to talk to, and Harry loved the way that Louis bantered with him. He hadn’t stopped challenging him all night, and Harry loved it. When the waiter had come around with the dessert cart, they had ordered tiramisu to share, and Louis was now fighting Harry for the right to the last remaining bite. 

“I should definitely get it. I make all the effort to come here tonight and my date doesn’t even show up!” Louis made an exaggerated pout, making Harry laugh even as he tried to pull a mock-offended expression. 

“Are you saying my presence makes you feel like you ought to be compensated?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, Harold, and I think the last bite of the tiramisu is exactly the appropriate compensation,” Louis said, folding his hands in front of him. 

“Hmm. Well by that logic, maybe I should get it as a reward for coming on this date in Liam’s place tonight.” 

“Or, maybe I should get it because it’s on my side of the plate. Possession is nine tenths of the law, you know.”

“But I bet I could beat you to it in a fight,” Harry countered. 

“Ah, but I’m older. Age before beauty, Harold,” Louis replied sagely.

“Are you calling me beautiful?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“But it was implied,” Harry pointed out. 

“No, what was implied was that you are more beautiful than me. If I was ugly, you could just be a little bit less ugly,” Louis argued. 

“Ah, but your logic has a flaw. You are _definitely_ good looking. And I think you think that I am good looking too,” Harry said with a cheeky grin. 

“Now whatever would give you that idea?” Louis teased. 

“Why don’t we share the last bite? I think there’s enough for two.” 

“If you think there’s enough for two you have obviously never seen me eat dessert. I have a better idea. I have ice cream back at my flat, if you like, we could go and eat a proper dessert?” Louis offered. 

“Yeah. I’d like that.” 

* 

Harry watched as Louis unlocked the door to his flat, shouldering it open and gesturing widely at the space behind him. 

“So this is my flat,” he said unnecessarily. “It’s not that fancy, but it does me fine.”

“It’s nice,” Harry said, and he meant it. It was small, sure, but it looked very cosy, blankets thrown over the sofa and framed photos placed all around the TV. 

“Thanks,” Louis said. He had a strange expression on his face as he watched Harry looking around his living room. Harry wasn’t sure what he was thinking, but he decided to redirect his focus. 

“So,” he said slowly, “I believe I was promised ice cream.”

It worked. Louis laughed, and pointed to another room off to the left.

“The kitchen’s through here. I’ll grab the ice cream, you grab the bowls?”

“Sure,” Harry agreed, following Louis into the kitchen. “Where do you keep them?”

Louis was already digging through the freezer, head hidden from view. 

“Uh, in the cupboard on the left.” He gestured vaguely to the left side of the kitchen. 

Harry looked in the direction Louis had indicated. There were three cupboards in a row, so he decided to check them one at a time. 

The first contained a selection of mugs, arranged neatly into rows, so he shut the door and moved onto the next. There were no bowls in this one either, but rather nine identical boxes. It took Harry a second to realise why they looked so familiar. Of course he knew those boxes, he waved them around every week on set. 

“What the…“

*

“Harry?” Having found the ice cream, Louis shut the freezer door with a victorious smile. “What’s wro-“ 

He cut off when he saw Harry in front of the opened cupboard, his secret cupboard. 

Oh no.

This was _not_ happening. 

“Um, the bowls are in the next cupboard over,” he said faintly. 

“Louis, why do you have two, four, six... _nine_ boxes of knives in here?” Harry asked incredulously. 

“Uh, that’s a funny story actually…“

Louis tried to think of a good excuse that he could use so he didn’t have to tell Harry that he had been buying all the products he advertised on TV. And…nothing. Harry was still waiting for him to say something, so he blurted out the first thing that came in his head.

“I’m just a really big fan of knives?” Louis tried. “No, wait, that sounds a little serial killer-y!” he amended at the sight of Harry’s wide eyes. “I like to be prepared, so I bought them in bulk at the shop in case one of them breaks or something.”

“Extras,” Harry repeated. 

“Yep!” Louis said confidently. 

“Louis.”

“Yes, Harry?”

“You know how we talked about my job at dinner?” Harry asked.

“Yes?” Louis didn’t like where this was going. 

“That’s how I know that these knives only come with the products I promote on TV. You can’t just buy them in shops.”

“Oh.” Oh. 

“So earlier, when you said you thought you might have seen one or two of my infomercials before…?” Harry prompted.

“That was a bit of an understatement,” Louis finished. “I was embarrassed and didn’t want to tell you… but yeah, I watch all of them.”

He looked over at Harry, still holding one of the boxes.

“I’m sorry if you think that’s creepy,” he said, “watching you on TV always brightens up my morning.”

“No, Lou,” Harry said, reaching over to put a hand on Louis’ arm. “I think it’s flattering. And it’s always nice to meet fans,” he added with an exaggerated wink. 

“Oh, shut up,” Louis laughed, nudging Harry’s shoulder. 

And that – that could have gone a _lot_ worse. 

“So now that your secret addiction has been confessed, is it time for ice cream yet?” Harry looked hopefully at the abandoned ice cream tub. 

“Of course,” Louis said. After the way Harry had just reacted to Louis’s embarrassing secret he wasn’t going to deny him anything. “Why don’t you go sit on the sofa and I’ll put some in bowls for us.”

He watched as Harry walked away, swinging his hips.

“I want two scoops!” he called back over his shoulder. 

And – Louis was so gone for him already. He still had a lot to learn about Harry, but he knew would really like to keep this sweet, kind, lovely boy around for a long time. 

He scooped out two generous bowls of ice cream and carried them out into the living room. 

“Here you go love,” he said, sitting down next to Harry on the sofa and setting both bowls down on the coffee table. As Harry reached out to take his bowl, Louis put his hand on Harry’s thigh. 

“But wait…” he said, “there’s more.” 

He pressed his lips to Harry’s, tentatively at first, and then with earnest when Harry kissed him back. He brought his hand up to cup Harry’s cheek, angling his head to deepen the kiss. The first touch of Harry’s tongue to his sent tingles down his spine. They kissed until they had to break apart to catch their breath, resting with their foreheads together. Louis pulled back and planted a gentle kiss on Harry’s jaw. 

“This is so much better than a set of steak knives.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you thought :)


End file.
